I assure you I did not beg for the job
by Possum132
Summary: A perspective on that scuffle in the kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place in OOTP. Molly Weasley is nice, Sirius Black is nasty, Severus Snape is nastier.
1. Chapter 1: Molly Weasley

**I assure you I did not beg for the job**

_This vignette isn't part of the seven part series that starts with "Why Snape never eats here" – it's just a speculation on the confrontation in the kitchen that followed the night that Arthur Weasley dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten. However, if you read the series you will get a better feel for the particular version of the Potterverse in which the story is set._

**Chapter 1: Molly Weasley**

She's bustling about the kitchen, she hasn't said anything to the children in case it doesn't happen, but she's got her fingers crossed that Arthur will be getting out of St Mungo's today. She thinks, of course, it's the _new_ St Mungo's, they had to move the hospital out of Diagon Alley into bigger premises right in the middle of Muggle London years and years ago, even before the war against Voldemort ... and then she remembers the war, Gideon and Fabian fought like tigers and died like heroes. Of course they were in the Order but she wasn't, not with three children underfoot and the twins on the way. She was pregnant with the twins when Gideon and Fabian died ... Gideon and Fabian, George and Fred, she hadn't wanted to burden the boys with their uncles' names, old fashioned pureblood names, but she had wanted to remember her brothers.

She remembers the trial, Mad-Eye Moody says that it took five Death Eaters to kill her brothers but the only one they ever caught was Antonin Dolohov ... and he wouldn't talk at his trial, just sneered and snarled and swore, so she doesn't really know what happened. She'd like to ask Severus Snape if he knows anything but she never will, that would be rude beyond imagining, and she never stares at his left arm, unlike some of the others ... and who would give a child a name like Severus? Such a harsh, cruel sounding name, that's a real old fashioned pureblood name, and why does Remus insist on calling him Severus, can't Remus see that he hates it? Professor Snape likes it when Albus calls him Severus, and he tolerates Minerva calling him by his first name, but to everyone else he prefers to be "Snape".

She remembers Dolohov's trial as if was yesterday, it was held in Courtroom Ten before the full Wizengamot, she and Arthur had excellent seats - of course Albus was there although he'd excluded himself from participating in the judgment on the grounds of personal friendship with the murdered men - and he'd been so kind to her. She thinks, I knew Snape was a Death Eater before he showed Fudge the Dark Mark, that revolting Rita Skeeter told me at Dolohov's trial, she asked me, how did I feel about Bill - he was about to start school that year - being taught by a ex-Death Eater? And I told her that if Albus Dumbledore was prepared to vouch for Snape, if Albus was willing to have him under the roof of Hogwarts, that was good enough for me – and good enough for Arthur, too!

And then she remembers the first time that she met Snape, it was at Bill's graduation ... Bill had been a prefect and Head Boy, twelve OWLs and even better results in his NEWTs ... and she'd been a bit taken aback - strict, severe Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House, is just a boy himself, he wouldn't even be thirty. And she'd thought, it's not much of a life for a young wizard here at Hogwarts, surrounded by a lot of kids, and everyone else on the staff is so much older, I hope there are a few young people in Hogsmeade for him to spend some time with ... and then she'd thought, Snape must have been only a teenager when he fell in with Voldemort, just a silly boy, not much older than my Bill, who's off to London to train as a Gringotts curse-breaker.

She thinks, now it's true that Bill didn't like Snape when he was Hogwarts, still doesn't like him – and that's not surprising, Snape doesn't make any effort to be likeable - but Charlie and ... Percy ... never had any problems with him, and as for Fred and George, well, I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than all the others put together, and at least he managed to drum the essentials of potion-making into their heads! It's not that the twins don't have brains, they just won't apply themselves, but somehow they passed OWL level Potions, and they can thank Professor Snape for that. Not that anyone ever _does_ thank him, oh, they're glad enough to hear his reports, but no one ever seems to think of what he has to do to get that information – or what will happen to him if Voldemort finds out that he's spying for Albus. Voldemort would kill a traitor in the most horrible way ...

And then she thinks of how Voldemort would kill a whole family of blood-traitors, she remembers the Boggart in the writing desk, remembers how it turned into dead Weasleys, the whole family, one after another ... but she pushes that unpleasant memory away and gets back to the business in hand, thinking, I must get this kitchen sorted out before I leave tomorrow, it was an absolute pigsty when I walked through the door. Really, I know Sirius hates being cooped up here, but he could keep the place in better order, that poor old house-elf is quite mad and incapable of doing a thing ... and he could do something about the garden, it's a jungle out there, thank Merlin it's the middle of London and there are no gnomes.

She sets some dishes to wash themselves in the kitchen sink, and starts tidying the pantry, thinking, Sirius is up in Buckbeak's bedroom again, in a fit of the sullens, he will miss us dreadfully when we're gone, especially Harry. It's hard on Sirius, he was in Azkaban for so many years, Harry was just a baby when he went to Azkaban and Harry is fifteen now ... and everyone says that he's the living image of James, with his mother's eyes. Of course it's difficult for Sirius to understand that even though Harry has done so much, been through so much, he's still a _boy_ – and he's not James, even if he looks like James, talks like James, plays Quidditch like James.

Poor Sirius, it's lonely for him here, Mad-Eye and Tonks drop in from time to time, and Remus stays as often as he can, but Mundungus Fletcher is the only regular visitor and that – she sniffs – is because he's pinching the silver! She's so cross, she mutters out loud, _oh yes, every time that mangy old half-blood leaves here there are fewer teaspoons_ ... But she's a little shocked at what she's said, because it isn't very nice to comment on whether someone has a Muggle parent, and she remembers Mrs Black's shrieks, _stains of dishonour, filthy half-bloods, blood traitors, children of filth._ No, it isn't nice at all, and there are still plenty of pureblood families who don't approve of mixed marriages ... and then she thinks, I might have half-blood grandchildren myself one day, the way the twins hang around that pretty girl in the paper shop in the village who thinks that their card tricks are almost like real magic. A Muggle daughter-in-law, oh dear, don't know how I'd cope with that, a Muggle-born girl like Hermione would be fine ... but a _Muggle_ - and what if the children are Squibs?

She remembers the cousin that no one ever liked to talk about, the Squib cousin, she's a bit vague about what happened to him, he'd ended up living in the Muggle world as an accountant or something, and she wonders if that's where Muggle-borns come from, if the Muggle-borns are descendents of Squibs in which the magic has unexpectedly reappeared, though she's heard stories that some Muggle-borns are really half-bloods. And then she thinks, I'll get Arthur to have a word with Fred and George about treating Muggle girls with proper respect, I know how some wizards behave with Muggle females, but not my boys, they're not like that – but I will ask Arthur to have a word with them.

Muggles! I suppose they're alright, Hermione's parents are lovely, but sometimes I wish Arthur wasn't so obsessed with Muggle things, fellytones and ecklectricity and that wretched _car_ – a fifty Galleon fine, and Merlin knows it was a struggle that year, with Ginny starting at Hogwarts - and Arthur's career _died_ the moment he let it be known at the Ministry that his dearest wish is to find out how aeroplanes stay up!

But now she's angry, Cornelius Fudge is an _idiot_ if Lucius Malfoy is his idea of a wizard with proper wizarding pride, and the Ministry is still a hotbed of pureblood prejudice, full of people who think that Albus Dumbledore is a Muggle-loving old fool - no wonder Arthur has been stuck for years in a dead-end job, in that dreadful little cupboard, sorting out _regurgitating toilets_ for Merlin's sake – when he had the marks to get into the Auror Corps, if that's what he'd wanted!

And then she thinks of what Percy said about having to struggle against Arthur's reputation in the Ministry ... Percy sent back his Christmas jumper and he hasn't even been to St Mungo's to see his father! Oh Percy ... with ambition like yours, perhaps you should have been Sorted into Slytherin, and that would have been a shock, I don't mind admitting that, a Weasley in _Slytherin_, but I think we would have managed, I hope we would have managed, I hope we wouldn't have treated you the way that Sirius' family treated him because he was Sorted into Gryffindor. And Slytherin House has only got such a bad reputation now because Voldemort is a Slytherin, it wasn't like that when I was a girl, I had cousins in Slytherin ... and there are Slytherins in the Order, Mad-Eye is a Slytherin, and so was Dorcas Meadowes, that's why Voldemort went to the trouble of killing her personally.

She finishes in the pantry – she's got quite a collection of hideous half-full opened jars of something or other that have grown fur, they'll be going straight into the rubbish, that's the sort of thing that attracts Bundimuns because they feed on dirt and food scraps, and she's found a horrid dead rat in what looks like a Muggle rat trap behind a bag of potatoes – and starts thinking about something a little bit special for dinner. Tomorrow is the last day of the Christmas break and the kids will be catching the Knight Bus back to Hogwarts so if Arthur gets out of St Mungo's today it will be their last opportunity to be together as a family until school finishes in June ... it's not absolutely definite that Arthur will be leaving hospital today so she didn't want to get the children's hopes up, but she wants to be prepared. Something simple, but tasty ... roast chicken, everyone loves that, with loads of roast pumpkin and potato and steamed green vegetables, and a treacle tart - and her treacle tart is better than a Hogwarts treacle tart, and that is saying something!

The front doorbell rings, and she thinks – Arthur! She hurries up to the front door, opens it, and her face falls with disappointment ... it's only Snape. What can he want? There's no meeting of the Order scheduled, so what can he want? And then she remembers her manners, remembers that she ought to thank him, Hippocrates Smethwyck says Snape Flooed down from Hogwarts the first chance he got after Arthur was bitten and spent hours with him discussing poison antidotes – she would have sent an owl straightaway to thank him but she'd been so flustered, so worried about Arthur until they found something to stop the bleeding. So as they walk down the hallway she murmurs her thanks and asks him if he wants to stay for dinner, Snape never eats at Grimmauld Place, not since the evening when Sirius got him to show the Dark Mark to Tonks, that sounded a bit nasty, that didn't sound funny at all even though Sirius and Mad-Eye were laughing so much about it, but she makes the offer anyway – but he can't stay long, he just needs to speak to Harry for five minutes. Very odd, really, because Harry will be back at Hogwarts tomorrow, why can't it wait until then?

She shows Snape into the kitchen and to her surprise, Sirius is there, lounging in a chair - he must have heard the doorbell ring, too. She thinks, this is going to put Sirius into an even more disagreeable mood, Sirius is so unpleasant about Snape, the things that Sirius says about Snape when he's had a bit too much to drink and the children have gone to bed! And those nasty nick-names, Snivellus, Snivelly, I don't like those at all. Not that Snape didn't needle Sirius a bit over the summer, asking him how the cleaning was going ... I don't know what went on between them when they were at school together, Remus hints that it was pretty bad, but I wish they'd stop acting like a couple of teenagers and remember what Albus said to them – they're both on the same side now. And I really wish Sirius wouldn't harp on about Snape being a Death Eater so much, it's cruel - his own brother made the same mistake and he regretted it, too, and perhaps that's why he hates Snape so much, Regulus Black is dead and Severus Snape is alive. And if Snape wasn't a Death Eater, Albus wouldn't have a spy, wouldn't know what Voldemort is up to, wouldn't be able to feed him false information ... we're lucky to have Snape on our side.

She leaves Sirius and Snape in the kitchen and goes to fetch Harry, he's in the boys' bedroom, playing chess with Ron, watched by Hermione, Ginny and Crookshanks, the twins must be in their own room, up to who knows what mischief ...

"Harry, dear, could you come down to the kitchen?" she says. "Professor Snape would like a word with you."

Harry is engrossed in his chess game, he's egging one of his castles on to attack one of Ron's pawns, but he does at least register that she's said _something_.

"Squash him – _squash him_, he's only a pawn, you idiot. Sorry, Mrs Weasley, what did you say?"

"Professor Snape, dear. In the kitchen. He'd like a word."

Harry looks startled, all the children look surprised, and Crookshanks wriggles out of Hermione's arms and pounces on the chessmen, sending them running for cover and squealing at the top of their voices.

"Snape?" says Harry, blankly.

She thinks, really, children these days, when I was at Hogwarts it was dinned into us, "sir" or "Professor" at all times …

"_Professor_ Snape, dear," she says reprovingly. "Now come on, quickly, he says he can't stay long."

Harry sets off down to the kitchen, she follows him, and then she hears the front doorbell ring again – and this time it is Arthur, in his striped pyjamas with a mackintosh thrown over the top. Bill is with him, but he'd felt strong enough to Apparate from St Mungo's to Grimmauld Place, and this is wonderful news. She calls up the stairs, "George! Fred! Ron! Ginny! Down here at once, Bill and your father are here!" The children come tumbling down the stairs, Hermione with them, and after a good deal of hugging and exclaiming, they drift towards the kitchen to tell Harry and Sirius the good news.

Arthur opens the kitchen door and they all walk in. "Cured," Arthur announces brightly to the kitchen at large. "Completely cured!"

And then she takes in the scene, Sirius and Snape are looking towards the door with their wands pointing into their faces, and Harry is immobile between them, a hand stretched out to each, trying to force them apart. She can feel the aggressive magic swirling around them, can see the expressions of loathing and contempt on their faces, and she's really afraid. This isn't just hexes in the corridors, this isn't just a scuffle between teenagers, this is a duel between two grown men, two powerful wizards, and she's very glad that Arthur is here to handle it.

"Merlin's beard," says Arthur, the smile sliding off his face. "What's going on here?"

Both Sirius and Snape lower their wands, Snape pockets his wand and sweeps past them without comment, but the expression on his face is frightening, there's murder in those black eyes, and she remembers the hints that Mad-Eye has dropped about Snape's Ministry file, the hints about unpleasant things in that file. But she thinks, Albus trusts him, he won't tell us why, but he trusts Snape and he wouldn't have him at Hogwarts if he was _dangerous_ – would he?

At the door Snape looks back. "Six o'clock, Monday evening, Potter."

She wonders briefly what this means, extra Potions lessons, perhaps, because Harry will surely be following his father into the Auror Corps and for that you need NEWT level Potions ...

Sirius glares after Snape, his wand at his side.

"What's going on?" asks Arthur again.

"Nothing, Arthur," says Sirius, breathing heavily as though he had run a long distance. "Just a friendly little chat between two old school friends." He smiles, "So ... you're cured? That's great news, really great."

"Yes, isn't it?" she says, leading Arthur into the kitchen and settling him on his chair.

She thinks, this isn't a good time to say anything about how Snape helped find a cure for Arthur, not with Sirius in this mood, I don't want to stir him up again, and I don't want Arthur upset, I don't want him any more worried than he is already - so all she says is, "Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake's got in its fangs, and Arthur's learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, _haven't you dear_?"


	2. Chapter 2: Sirius Black

**Chapter 2: Sirius Black**

He's up in Buckbeak's bedroom, grooming him, running the brush in long, smooth, sweeping strokes from the place where the hair starts - just behind the withers - right down the Hippogriff's back and over the hindquarters, and he's thinking, well, Beaky, it's just going to be you and me again soon, Harry will be going back to Hogwarts tomorrow ... Mad-Eye and Tonks drop in occasionally and Moony stays as often as he can – mostly when he's between jobs, the poor bugger is working undercover as a Muggle now, I wish he'd let me loan him a few Galleons – but Dung is our only regular visitor, and that's because he's nicking the silver!

He laughs, thinking, the mangy old half-blood, I know there are fewer teaspoons every time he leaves this place, as if I _care_ ... and Dung is always good for some gossip. He's not a bad bloke even if he is a bit light-fingered, shit, he's only a petty thief, he's not a Death Eater, he hasn't killed or tortured or raped anyone, not like Snape ...

Snape! He grimaces in disgust and remembers what he'd told Harry, _I just can't see Dumbledore letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort_. I was wrong about that, wasn't I? Somehow Snape has wormed his way into Dumbledore's good graces, convinced Dumbledore that he's reformed – but why won't Dumbledore tell us why he trusts the slimy sod? Oh, Snape thinks he's somebody now, he thinks he's Dumbledore's favourite, he's got Dumbledore fooled alright, but Dumbledore wasn't in the Shrieking Shack, he didn't see how Snape behaved that night, he looked completely insane. If Snape hadn't been foaming at the mouth, we would have revived him, he would have seen Wormtail in his human form after we cast the Homorphus Charm, Wormtail would have gone to Azkaban, and none of this would ever have happened. The stupid bastard, this is all _his_ fault, if he wasn't still stewing over something that happened twenty years ago when we were all in sixth year, Voldemort would still be floating around Albania as a disembodied spirit, Moony would still be teaching at Hogwarts, and I wouldn't be cooped up in this hell-hole - and it's been six months, six whole months that I've been stuck in this place!

He remembers what Snape had said – _vengeance is very sweet_ – and he thinks, I can't believe what a malicious, petty-minded jerk Snape is, carrying a schoolboy grudge like that for twenty years, OK it was an idiotic thing to do, I'll admit that, but I wasn't trying to get him killed - like I'd want to get Moony into _that_ kind of trouble – I just wanted to give him a fright, teach him a lesson, teach him not to mess around with the Marauders. And Moony wasn't in on the joke, he was really upset about it, he didn't speak to me for days after he found out what had happened. I can understand Snape being a bit pissed off with me over that incident, but he took it out on _Moony_, he got Moony kicked out of his job at Hogwarts – and how is Moony ever going to get another decent job, now that Umbridge has got that anti-werewolf legislation passed? What an arsehole Snape is, when it's Moony who's always sticking up for him, saying that if Dumbledore trusts him that should be good enough, and being _nice_ to him, calling him by his first name, telling everyone what a great potion maker he is ... telling everyone that there are only half a dozen wizards in Europe who are up to making the Wolfsbane Potion!

And now he feels aggrieved, what's going on with Moony – has he forgotten that he's a Marauder? Moony has even hinted a couple of times that maybe part of the reason Snape went over to Voldemort was that business in the Shrieking Shack in sixth year, and that is absolute _crap_ because Snape was a foul little Dark wizard in training from the day that he started at Hogwarts - has Moony forgotten that bone-breaking curse he used on me in the very first week of term, I was in the Hospital Wing for _two days_. That was a serious curse that Snape used, half the seventh years wouldn't have even heard of it, and he only got a week's worth of detentions!

And then he thinks, it wasn't as if I got off scot free after Moony gave Snape his little scare in the Shrieking Shack - Dumbledore lectured me for _hours_ and it would have been expulsion except that he had to keep it quiet for Moony's sake. And why wasn't Snape in trouble too – he was breaking curfew and out of bounds – and he was asking for it, anyway, always sneaking around, sticking his big nose in where it wasn't wanted. What did Moony tell me the Map said to Snape when he got his dirty paws on it? "Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business." Ha! And didn't we have fun with that Map until Filch confiscated it, Snape couldn't get away from us, not that we would have bothered with him if he'd learnt his lesson and kept his head down, but he kept fighting back, he kept trying to hex _us_, the idiot, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut, either, he was always sniping and sneering – oh, he was _asking_ for it, alright!

And Snape was always such a sly, nasty little Slytherin creep, always hanging around the Restricted Section in the Library, dragging a dozen Dark Arts books around with him wherever he went ... Ugly, greasy, scruffy little nobody, and what kind of a name is Snape, anyway? Snape's father must have been a foreigner, he must have been from one of those families that came over from the Continent during the Grindelwald war - like Dolohov and Karkaroff's families - from some place where pureblood snobbery is even worse than it is in England, didn't Minerva say the other day that Durmstrang still won't admit Muggle-borns?

And Snape does look a bit foreign, with that hooked nose and oily hair, and by Merlin he's always been an ugly bastard, always had an ugly look on his face, always sneering and smirking and scowling - just looking at him when he was a kid made me want to curse him! And he was such a _girl_ if you got his wand away from him, he cried like a girl that day in third year when James punched him and broke his nose, Snape snivelled like a girl that day, that's how he got the nick-name "Snivellus".

OK, OK, maybe we pranked Snape a bit when we were at Hogwarts, especially in fifth year, that was probably the worst - we were arrogant young berks, well, not Moony so much, but hell, we were only fifteen! But we laid off him in seventh year, James was always with Lily in seventh year and it wasn't nearly as much fun without James. And James didn't want to upset Lily, she was doing extra NEWT credit work in Potions with Snape and she kept saying he wasn't that bad. That was the thing about Lily, she had to believe the best of people, even of _Snape_ – but she was wrong about him, because he turned out to be a Death Eater. Yep, even if we were a bit out of order when we were at school, Snape can't point the finger - he's a filthy Death Eater! Mad-Eye's told me a bit about his Ministry file, there's some really nasty stuff in that file, and Mad-Eye doesn't trust him, either ... and it was Mad-Eye who arrested him. Oh, the Ministry went easy on Snape - he didn't spend a _day_ in Azkaban, and he wasn't even publicly tried, he just had an informal hearing in front of Barty Crouch, senior. The same man who sent me to Azkaban without a trial went _easy_ on Snape – Mad-Eye told me, he was there.

Then he thinks, I'm glad it wasn't Mad-Eye who arrested me, I'm glad it was Scrimgeour – he wasn't a member of the Order. It would have been hard being interrogated by Mad-Eye - not that he was called Mad-Eye in those days, he still had both his eyes, he lost that eye when Bellatrix and her little gang were arrested and charged with the torture of the Longbottoms - it would have been hard being interrogated by someone I knew and liked, someone I'd seen at a dozen Order meetings.

And then he remembers the photograph of the original Order members that Mad-Eye has shown him, and the names that go with the missing faces – Marlene McKinnon, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Benjy Fenwick, Edgar Bones, Caradoc Dearborn, Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Dorcas Meadowes, James and Lily Potter ... and Peter Pettigrew. He realises that Buckbeak is gently nibbling at his shoulder, he's dropped the brush on the floor ... _sorry, Beaky,_ he mutters as he retrieves the brush and starts grooming again.

Damn, damn, damn, he thinks, Snape is right, I can't do anything useful for the Order while the Ministry has a ten thousand Galleon reward on my head, but if he says another word about it, if he hints one more time that I'm a coward, I'll let him have it, I don't care what Dumbledore says, I'll really let Snape have it. Oh, I won't _kill_ him, but I'll knock him around a bit, remind him of who he's dealing with.

He finishes grooming the Hippogriff, ruffles his neck feathers, and promises to fetch him a little treat from the kitchen - he's put a couple of Dung's special magically improved Muggle rat traps in the pantry and something has usually blundered into one of them by this time of the day - but as he's coming down the stairs he hears the front doorbell ring, and he thinks ... Arthur! Molly said last night that she hoped that Arthur would be getting out of St Mungo's today, I'll let her answer the door and I'll wait in the kitchen, they'd probably like to have a little private time together, Molly went through a hell of a time until they found something to stop the bleeding ... I'll miss Molly, even if she does give me the evil eye whenever I pour myself a glass of firewhisky or make a joke about Snape.

He drops into a chair in the kitchen, but when Molly walks through the door she doesn't have Arthur with her, it's someone he's much less pleased to see – Snape! Why is the bastard here when there's no meeting of the Order scheduled? Snape wants to see Harry, Merlin's beard, what can be so important that it can't wait until Harry is back at Hogwarts? Molly trots off to fetch Harry, and the moment she's out the door he turns on Snape and demands to know what's going on, and lets him know, forcefully, that anything Snape has to say to Harry, he can say in the presence of his godfather.

Snape shrugs, and tosses him a letter. He rips it open, it's from Dumbledore, just a brief note advising him that Dumbledore is concerned that Voldemort may be accessing Harry's mind – it will be that damned curse scar troubling him again – but Harry is not to be told anything of this, and he will be receiving tutoring in Occlumency.

He hears the kitchen door open, hears Harry say, "Er ..." to signal his presence.

Snape looks around at Harry, orders him to sit down.

He thinks, Snape must love being a teacher, he must love being able to bully a bunch of kids ... he was such a loser when he was at school, and now he's back at Hogwarts, on the staff, handing out detentions and taking points – he must _love_ that! Bloody hell, I've spent twelve years in Azkaban, two years on the run, and six months under house arrest, and all that time Snape has had a comfortable job at Hogwarts, he's been having a nice comfortable time playing the part of Dumbledore's pet Death Eater ... well, he's not pushing Harry around in _my_ house.

He leans back on the rear legs of his chair and speaks to the ceiling to emphasise his contempt. "You know," he says loudly, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."

He's scored a hit, Snape's face flushes, turns the same ugly brick colour he remembers from their schooldays.

Harry sits down next to him, facing Snape across the table, that's sending the greasy git the right message – tangle with one Marauder, and you tangle with all of them.

Snape sneers, "I was supposed to see you alone, Potter, but Black - ."

He interrupts. "I'm his godfather," he says, louder than ever, and he's thinking, I was James and Lily's closest friend, I was James' best man at their wedding – Moony is a great bloke but he does have his furry little problem, of course they chose _me_ to be Harry's godfather. And if Wormtail hadn't framed me, I would have been the one to bring him up, he would have gone to those damned Muggles over my dead body!

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," says Snape, in that nasty, snide voice he uses when he's being insulting, "but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel ... involved."

Same old Snape, sniping and needling, and dropping Dumbledore's name into it, gloating over how Dumbledore trusts him, relies on him, _needs_ him ...

"What's that supposed to mean?" he says, letting his chair fall back on to all four legs with a loud bang.

"Merely that I am sure that you must feel – ah – frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing _useful_ for the Order."

Even though he's been expecting it, expecting Snape to taunt him because he's stuck in this ghastly house, even though he's expecting Snape to rub it in – Dumbledore's orders to _him_ are to lie low, stay out of sight, to do _nothing_ – it still hurts, and his face turns red with rage and embarrassment.

Snape is sneering with satisfaction as he turns to Harry, tells him, "The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Study what?" asks Harry.

Snape's sneer becomes more pronounced as he explains what Occlumency is, and that's bloody unfair, Occlumency is NEWT level stuff, really advanced magic, and most adult wizards would struggle with it ... of course Harry hasn't heard of Occlumency!

Harry looks stunned, and blurts out, "Why do I have to study Occlu – thing?"

He'd like to tell Harry, he'd like to tell him everything – why is Dumbledore mollycoddling Harry like this? For Merlin's sake, look at what he's done! Dealt with Quirrell, killed a Basilisk, driven off a hundred Dementors, won the Tri-wizard Tournament, duelled with Voldemort himself ... why doesn't Dumbledore just tell Harry what's going on?

But he knows better than to say anything, Dumbledore has made it very, _very_ clear that Harry is to know nothing of what's hidden in the Department of Mysteries, and he remembers how angry Dumbledore was when Dung left his post in Privet Drive, there had been no benign smile on his face, no twinkle in the blue eyes then.

Snape answers smoothly, "Because the Headmaster thinks it is a good idea. You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"

"Yes," says Harry. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

Snape raises an eyebrow and replies, "I am."

Harry looks horrified, and then Harry looks round at him for support, and he thinks – I'm here for you, kid, I'll always be here for you - and he jumps in at once. "Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" he asks aggressively, thinking, I know Dumbledore is a busy man – but what could be more important than this? "Why you?"

Snape says, "I suppose because it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks. I assure you, I did not beg for the job." He gets to his feet and adds, "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anyone asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."

He's furious at the calculated nastiness of this reply, Harry hasn't said anything but he's gathered from a few remarks that the Weasley boys have made that Harry isn't Snape's favourite student, and Moony, well, Moony has been a bit evasive when he's asked how Snape treats Harry - and if this is how Snape speaks to Harry in his godfather's presence, what might he get up to when it's just the two of them, when there are no witnesses?

Snape turns to leave, but he's not going to let Snape get away with this kind of behaviour.

"Wait a moment," he says, sitting up straighter in his chair.

Snape turns back to face them, the sneer still plastered to his face. "I am in rather a hurry, Black," Snape says. "Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time."

He thinks, you can't leave it alone, can you Snape? Another dig like that and I'll hang you upside down, like we did at school – and I hope you've washed your underpants lately ...

"I'll get to the point," he says, standing up. There's no point in being subtle, Snape is the kind of bully who only responds to direct threats from somebody who's bigger and stronger than he is. He notes with satisfaction that he's still taller than Snape, and Snape is already looking defensive, balling his fist in the pocket of his cloak over the handle of his wand – and he thinks, worried about getting your nose broken again, are you, Snivelly? Well, I won't lay a hand on you, I wouldn't want to get grease on it, I wouldn't want to have to _wash_ it.

He says, "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."

Snape is sneering again, "How touching, but surely you've noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," he says proudly, thinking, Harry is the spitting image of James, he looks like him, he talks like him, he plays Quidditch like him, I know, I've seen him play ... but what's that got to do with it?

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape replies sleekly.

He thinks – right! You've done it now, Snape, bringing James into this! James and I were the best in the school at whatever we did, we were the height of cool – we were everything you wanted to be, you miserable, jealous little prick! How dare you bring James into this!

He pushes his chair roughly aside, and strides around the table towards Snape, pulling out his wand. And suddenly he's really angry and it's not about Harry any more, it's about James and Lily, it's about all those faces missing from the Order photograph, it's about Voldemort and his filthy, stinking Death Eaters. And he's been spoiling for this fight for six months, he'd been too shocked and horrified by the news of Voldemort's return the night that Dumbledore forced him to shake hands with Snape to fully realise the implications of the Dark Mark on Snape's arm ... but Snape is a Death Eater, he's one of Voldemort's creatures, and he's never had to suffer for it, he's been cunning and clever enough to stay out of trouble – so far. Well, maybe his luck is about to run out ...

Snape looks calculating, those black eyes are darting from his wand-tip to his face, Snape's a Legilimens so there's no advantage in a non-verbal spell, not that this bothers him, Snape didn't put up much of a show in the Shrieking Shack, did he? He let three kids disarm him!

"I've warned you, _Snivellus_," he says, his face barely a foot from Snape's. "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better - ."

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" Snape whispers. "Or are you afraid that he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?"

He thinks, out with it, Snape, stop hinting, come on - if you're going to call me a coward, just come out and say it! But before he hurts Snape with his wand, he'll hurt him with words, the insult that always stung him in the old days, probably it's not true - Snape somehow managed to get with a few girls in his last year at Hogwarts, must have used the Imperius Curse on them – but it doesn't matter whether or not it's true, provided that it _hurts_. He remembers that Harry is still in the room, so he doesn't use the word he'd like to, but Snape will know what he means ...

"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," Snape says softly, "Did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognised you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform ... gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"

He raises his wand, he's going to take Snape apart, so comprehensively that not even St Mungo's will be able to put the bastard back together again ... but Harry is yelling, "NO!" Harry is vaulting over the table and trying to get between him and Snape, shouting, "Sirius, don't!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" he roars, trying to push Harry out of the way.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," says Snape.

"Harry – get – out – of – it!" he snarls, pushing Harry aside with his free hand. He's going to kill Snape, Harry stopped him killing Pettigrew and look at what came of that, but he's going to _kill_ Snape, he's going to kill at least one of Voldemort's Death Eaters before they kill him, but first he's going to _crucio_ the filthy bastard, make him scream and twitch, give him a taste of his own medicine ...

Then the kitchen door opens and the entire Weasley family plus Hermione Granger walk in, Arthur Weasley amongst them, wearing striped pyjamas under a mackintosh, and Arthur announces brightly to the whole kitchen, "Cured! Completely cured!"

Startled, he turns to look at the Weasleys, it's as if someone has thrown a bucket of cold water over him. Sweet Merlin, what had he been about to do? Use an Unforgiveable in front of Harry? Use the Cruciatus Curse – after what happened to Harry in that graveyard?

"Merlin's beard," says Arthur, the smile sliding off his face, and he doesn't look like a mild mannered Ministry clerk any more, he looks like the kind of guy you don't want to tangle with. "What's going on here?"

Snape also seems to have come to his senses, he's lowered his wand, now he pockets it, turns on his heel and sweeps across the room.

At the door he looks back. "Six o'clock, Monday evening, Potter." And then he's gone.

He glares after Snape, his wand at his side. He's feeling dirty and ashamed, almost as if he's somehow played into Snape's hands. What the hell had he been thinking of? What would Dumbledore have done if he'd used an Unforgiveable in a kitchen scuffle with Snape? And what would Harry have thought of him? Sure, in the first war against Voldemort the Aurors were authorised to use the Unforgiveables – but only as a last resort, and Dumbledore never liked it.

"What's going on?" asks Arthur again.

"Nothing, Arthur," he says, breathing heavily as though he had run a long distance. "Just a friendly little chat between two old school friends."

He just wants to forget about the whole horrible incident as quickly as possible, he knows he's going to stew about it for hours, but he definitely doesn't want any more questions. He's got to steer the conversation back onto safe ground – and Molly is looking at him over Arthur's shoulder, looking anxious and frightened.

He makes an effort to smile at Arthur. "So ... you're cured? That's great news, really great."

Molly looks relieved, and she's quick to reply on Arthur's behalf.

"Yes, isn't it?" she says, leading Arthur into the kitchen and settling him on a chair. "Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake's got in its fangs, and Arthur's learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, _haven't you dear_?"


	3. Chapter 3: Severus Snape

**Chapter 3: Severus Snape**

It's a bleak January day, so he wraps his black travelling cloak around him as he stands outside the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place, hesitating before he rings the doorbell. It's bad enough coming here for full Order meetings, when there are plenty of people around and usually the Headmaster attends, so he just sticks close to Dumbledore and then gets the hell out of the place as soon as the meeting is over, but today the only other adult in the house besides Sirius Black will be Molly Weasley. It's not that he's afraid of Black, it's more that he's afraid of what he might do to Black if Black provokes him again. If Black makes one more snide remark, calls him _Snivellus_ one more time, he'll teach Black a lesson that he won't forget in a hurry ... he thinks, screw _you_, Black - Dumbledore trusts me, he _trusts_ me – enough to give me this job, though I don't want it, I don't want to teach Occlumency to Potter, no, I didn't beg for _this_ job.

Potter! Harry bloody Potter, it's always about Potter – because of Potter, both his masters have been running him ragged over the Christmas break, both camps have been in a major flap since Potter had the vision of Arthur Weasley being bitten by Nagini just before Christmas, and it's been absolutely frantic. Look on the bright side, the Dark Lord is starting to rely on him, starting to listen to him, because he's the one who can supply information on Potter and Dumbledore – and Dumbledore is still the only wizard that the Dark Lord fears.

Dumbledore is very anxious about Potter, anxious that Potter might find out about the prophecy – but he can't understand why Dumbledore is mollycoddling the blasted boy. Why doesn't Dumbledore tell Potter that he's the _weapon_, and start training him up for the job he's got to do? Potter has seen the Unforgiveables in action, even experienced _crucio_, so why isn't he being trained to use them? Doesn't the Headmaster know what Potter will have to do – what he'll have to _become_ – if he's truly the _one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord?_ Oh yes, he thinks, Potter will have to become something like me if he's going to destroy the Dark Lord, and if Black pushes me today, if he pushes me too far, Potter might just find out what I'm capable of ... not that I'll kill Black, I'd like to but I daren't - I'll just knock him around a bit, show him who he's dealing with. _Sectumsempra, for enemies_ – that would do the job ...

And then he remembers the last time he drew his wand on Black, he remembers the humiliating fiasco in the Shrieking Shack - Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio had disarmed him, he hadn't thought for a minute that they could be a threat. He'd looked like a complete idiot, Pettigrew had reported the whole thing to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord hadn't been impressed.

The Dark Lord had tormented him a little over that, had asked why he hadn't tried to help the man who the whole wizarding world thought was an escaped Death Eater ... and he hadn't known what to say, it was a more difficult situation to explain even than Quirrell, so he'd just cringed and begged and babbled something about believing that Black must have double-crossed the Dark Lord, babbled that he'd wanted revenge for Black's betrayal of his master. But the Dark Lord had only been playing with him – the Dark Lord knew well enough how much he hated Black, he'd rifled through his mind often enough, and seen the memories of the Marauders' torments. The Dark Lord had, however, rebuked him for being too caught up in his own petty little jealousies to realize that it would have been a much smarter strategy to smarm up to Potter from the beginning and gain his trust. What had the Dark Lord said? _If I say it myself, Severus, I've always been able to charm the people I needed._

Oh yes, the Dark Lord could be charming alright, the Dark Lord knew how to use the carrot as well as the stick - he'd been mesmerized by the Dark Lord when he first met him, and the Dark Lord had dangled irresistible baits in front of him – power, wealth, revenge on the Gryffindors who'd tortured him at school, and a secure place in wizarding society when the Dark Lord became Minister for Magic. The Dark Lord had offered him a place in the sun – and no one needed to know that he was a half-blood, the Dark Lord had assured him _that will be our little secret_. He'd wanted it so much, he couldn't wait to take the Dark Mark, couldn't wait to prove his loyalty and devotion, he'd been prepared to do anything, even apply for a teaching position at Hogwarts – right up to the moment when the Dark Lord had threatened Lily.

Lily! Even if his position as a half-blood - if they ever found out about his filthy Muggle father – hadn't been too precarious for him to risk getting mixed up with a Muggle-born, he'd known that he couldn't compete with the Gryffindor Quidditch champion, he had nothing to offer her compared to handsome, popular, wealthy, pureblood James Potter. He had second-hand robes and tatty books, and Potter had the most expensive racing broom on the market and an invisibility cloak - Potter's parents actually let him bring something as rare and precious as an _invisibility cloak _to school! And Potter was guaranteed a good position in the Ministry – but when _he_ left school he'd have nothing but his NEWT results and the patronage of Lucius Malfoy to recommend him.

No, he'd never been in _love_ with Lily, but they'd become friends when Slughorn threw them together in his special advanced tutorials for his two most brilliant NEWTs students, she'd always been civil to him, even before he'd mumbled an apology for the Mudblood insult, and he _liked_ her. And of course he'd fancied her – who didn't, she was gorgeous - and he'd indulged in some pretty lurid fantasies about her, even after she married Potter.

And when the Dark Lord had called them together and told them that he was going after the Potters, he hadn't been quick enough to hide his feelings, the Dark Lord had seen right through him, he'd said, "I can see you're … attracted … to the Mudblood witch. You can have her when I've killed Potter and the boy." The others had sniggered – they'd known what this meant – a Memory Charm strong enough to obliterate Lily's memories of James and the baby, leaving her an empty shell, it would be worse than killing her, nearly as bad as a Dementor's Kiss, she'd be just a body to _use_. He couldn't let that happen, and he couldn't let the brat die, not when he'd bumped into her by carefully orchestrated chance in the Leaky Cauldron not long after it was born, he'd seen the tiny, mewling lump in her arms and realised how much she loved it, she'd do anything to protect her little Potter-clone.

So he'd gone to the Headmaster, to the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared, and blurted it all out, begged Dumbledore to protect Lily ... and somehow he'd ended up spying on the Dark Lord for Dumbledore. He'd had to smarten up fast once he'd turned traitor, he'd gone through seven hells that year before the Dark Lord fell, and now he's going through hell again – for James Potter's brat, the spitting image of his revolting father, there's nothing of his mother in him except those green eyes.

And what in hell is going on between Harry Potter and the Dark Lord, it's not Legilimency, it's something else, something really _weird_ - the Dark Lord had been furious and even a little bit afraid when he realized that Harry Potter had been seeing into his mind, and in a panic in case the Ministry connected the snake to him and shook off their complacency. And there's something else brewing up, something that's been brought forward in case the Ministry increases security at Azkaban ... he's told Dumbledore but there's nothing they can do about, Fudge won't listen to Dumbledore, and any attempt to warn him now would only get back to Lucius.

He thinks, it's Lucius' job to manage Fudge and the Ministry, and it's my job to manage Dumbledore and Hogwarts ... the Dark Lord will want a report after every Occlumency lesson, and Dumbledore will want a report after every meeting with the Dark Lord, it's going to be gruelling, keeping them both happy. And I've still got classes to teach, I'm behind with my work now because of this, I've got three dozen Potions samples sitting around waiting to be graded and that's going to chew up the rest of the day, tomorrow I have to prepare for lessons, and I'm on fucking _probation_ – that bitch Umbridge, she might have the right idea about werewolves but she's an utter _bitch_. Oh, isn't it a good thing my personal life is limited to a weekly game of chess with Filius and the odd visit to a Muggle nightclub when I'm in the mood and can spare the time ...

But he knows that he's being self-indulgent, wallowing in resentful thoughts because he's tired and cranky and because he's not looking forward to dealing with Black and Potter, so he tells himself to stop pissing around and get on with it. He rings the doorbell of 12 Grimmauld Place, steps back while he waits for someone to come to the door, and braces himself to run the gauntlet of Mrs Black's portrait. He's waiting for the day when she recognizes him, when she starts screeching about Regulus to him, and he's almost – but not quite – tempted to offer to remove the portrait, he knows a few ways around a Permanent Sticking Charm, but they've never asked for his help and he's damned if he's going to offer it.

Molly Weasley opens the door, her face is flushed with excitement but when she sees that it's him, her face falls. He feels a tiny stab of disappointment, shit, not Molly too, not that he's ever deluded himself that she _likes_ him, but he'd thought that she didn't actually dislike him, but she's not happy to see the filthy Slytherin, is she? Probably brooding over Percy - Lucius has told him all about _that_ situation - and no doubt she's thinking that Percy has turned out to be such a rotten little bastard he ought to have been Sorted into Slytherin, the only Weasley ever to be Sorted into Slytherin. He seethes with fury at the thought, Percy is ambitious enough but he hasn't got a clue – he would have been eaten alive in Slytherin! And that's another reason for being sure that Percy Weasley is not Dumbledore's man in the Ministry, he's hashed that over with Lucius a dozen times, Percy is just a prat, an idiot Gryffindor, he's not Dumbledore's spy.

He tells Molly that he won't be staying long, he's just got to see Potter for five minutes, owls from Hogwarts are being intercepted so he had to come himself, and he follows her down the hallway. She's saying something about Arthur, he's much better, and thank you so much for spending time with Healer Smethwyck discussing Arthur's condition and does he want to stay for dinner, but he's not really paying attention to her chatter and he certainly has no intention of lingering once his job is done, he thinks, vaguely, healing potions aren't really my specialty but I do know a lot about venoms … and it wasn't as if I had anything better to do, it was either catch up on my marking or Floo to St Mungo's for some moderately interesting professional chit-chat, and I don't mind Arthur, I don't want _him_ dead.

Then he walks into the kitchen and tenses up, because here is someone he does want dead – or at least very badly cut up - Sirius Black, the mutt, lounging in a chair, but he's pleased to see that Black is looking a bit more dishevelled, a bit more wasted, a bit more hung over than the last time that he saw him.

Molly has gone to fetch Potter, he's alone with Black, Black is demanding to know why he's here, why he wants to see Potter – so he tosses him the letter, the brief note from the Headmaster about the Occlumency lessons.

He hears the kitchen door open, hears Potter say, "Er ...", and looks around at him, tells him to sit down.

Potter sits down next to his godfather, stares across the table at him - and that touches a nerve, the boy with James Potter's face and Sirius Black, sitting together, as they always did at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, looking at him with disgust as if he was some loathesome thing that didn't deserve to exist. Oh, they'd been quite the double act, James Potter and Sirius Black, the leaders of their little gang, and they'd made his life a misery.

"You know," says Black loudly, leaning back on the rear legs of his chair and speaking to the ceiling to emphasise his contempt, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."

He can feel his face flushing, turning that ugly brick colour - this might be Black's house but Potter is his student and it's a constant struggle to maintain his authority over the arrogant brat, and now Black is undermining him in front of Potter. It's unbearable, nearly as bad as Lupin's Boggart class, and the worst thing about that was Dumbledore's joke - that Christmas lunch when Dumbledore made him pull a Christmas cracker and that bloody vulture hat fell out of it, sweet Merlin that had _hurt_, and he'd had to pretend that he didn't care. And why is it that the Headmaster can hurt him more with a sharp word or a look of disappointment than the Dark Lord can with _crucio_?

He's supposed to see Potter alone, but Black is banging on about how he's Potter's godfather, and he thinks, how does it feel, Black, to be a bit player, you're only important because you're Potter's godfather, you're only being told what's going on because you're his _godfather_.

He says, "I am here on Dumbledore's orders, but by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel ... involved."

Black is clearly agitated, Black doesn't like that, so he presses the point, says something about Black being frustrated because he can do nothing useful for the Order, and sneers with satisfaction as Black's face turns red with rage and embarrassment. Then he turns to Potter, tells him, "The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Study what?" asks Potter blankly, and he's amazed at the boy's ignorance and stupidity. The swollen-headed little bastard must have read all about himself in popular books like _Modern Magical History_, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_, and surely he would have picked up a bit of information about the Dark Lord, must have learned that the Dark Lord is a master of Legilimency and Occlumency.

His sneer becomes more pronounced as he explains what Occlumency is. Potter looks stunned, and blurts out, "Why do I have to study Occlu – thing?"

He answers smoothly, "Because the Headmaster thinks it is a good idea. You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?"

"Yes," says Potter. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

His stomach twists at the answer he has to give, and he thinks, does Dumbledore really know what he's asking of me? Slughorn taught me the basics of Occlumency, but the Dark Lord made me an expert – and he wasn't gentle. And I don't know what I'll see in Potter's mind, maybe myself, grovelling to the Dark Lord ... or worse, twitching and screaming under the Cruciatus Curse, yes, Potter would love that, he'd _love_ to see the greasy git getting the crap kicked out of him by his Dark Lord. And even if I put my most ... sensitive ... memories in the Headmaster's Pensieve, there are still a few things I don't want Potter to see, and that could happen, I can't protect myself properly if I'm trying to teach him ...

He raises an eyebrow and replies, "I am."

Potter looks horrified, and then he looks round at Black for support. Black jumps in at once. "Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" he asks aggressively. "Why you?"

He'd like to tell him, he'd like to tell Black the reason – something nasty is going on between your godson and the Dark Lord, something that isn't Legilimency, something really strange - and if Dumbledore were to teach Potter, Potter would probably try to kill the Headmaster, not that he'd succeed but it would be a pretty ugly scene.

But he's forbidden to speak of it, so he says, "I suppose because it is a headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks. I assure you I did not beg for the job."

He gets to his feet and adds, "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anyone asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."

He turns to leave, thinking, well, that's over – the job's done and I'm out of here, and I've been a good boy, I haven't lost my temper, I haven't hexed Black.

But Black hasn't finished. "Wait a moment," he says.

He turns back to face them, sneering, and thinking, what is it now, a demand for special treatment for the Boy Who Lived, go easy on him, Snape, or else ... well, hurry up, Black, spit it out, I've got things to do, unlike you.

"I am in rather a hurry, Black," he says. "Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time."

"I'll get to the point," says Black, standing up.

Black is still somewhat taller than he is – he remembers how Black towered over him when they were first years, he'd disarmed Black in a scuffle and then Black had tried to punch him, Muggle-style, and he'd used a bone-breaking curse on Black – and he balls his fist in the pocket of his cloak over the handle of his wand. And he thinks, here it comes, just like the old days - first threats and then hexes – but you haven't got James Potter to back you up now, you're on your own now, Black ... and how does that feel?

Black says, "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."

Give Harry a hard time! He thinks, _me_ give the Headmaster's darling a hard time – I don't think so! Potter has been breaking rules since the day he arrived at Hogwarts but he never gets into trouble, he's _special_. Just like his bloody father, roaming around the castle in his invisibility cloak, doing things that would get any other student expelled ... and his father was in on the plot, but somehow _he_ managed to come out of it smelling of roses, how heroic, risking his own life to save a classmate from a horrible death – or something worse – and Dumbledore made him Head Boy!

He sneers again, "How touching, but surely you've noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," Black says proudly

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," he replies sleekly.

Black is pushing his chair aside, Black is striding around the table towards him, pulling out his wand – and he whips out his own wand, feeling a sense of fierce joy, because he's been spoiling for this fight for six months, and now it's going to be sorted out between the two of them, once and for all. But he's still wary, he has to let Black throw the first hex, or he'll be the one who's punished when Dumbledore finds out. His eyes dart from Black's wand-tip to his face, Black is really angry, his face is dark with fury and it won't take much to push him over the edge ...

"I've warned you, Snivellus," says Black, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better – "

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" he whispers. "Or are you afraid that he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months?"

Now that's really stung Black, but Black is still holding back, still using words instead of his wand ...

"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days?" says Black. "I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

He knows what Black is hinting at but he could almost laugh at the feebleness of the taunt, that might have hurt years ago, but not now, now that he's outgrown his teenage insecurities. OK, he was never a pretty-boy, but he'd grown up at lot in that last year at Hogwarts, plenty of girls had noticed him, and there's been no shortage of women since then. And Lucius is having to peddle hard to regain the Dark Lord's favour, the Dark Lord had punished him very, very severely indeed for that business with the diary, and if Lucius stuffs up again, the Dark Lord will kill him.

"Speaking of dogs," he says softly, "Did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognised you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform ... gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?"

Black raises his wand and he looks into Black's eyes, sees the curse that Black is planning to use, and he thinks, go on, Black, _do it_ – if you've got the nerve and the ability – I know a Shield Charm strong enough to bounce it right back on you, and the Headmaster will be livid if you use an Unforgiveable in front of Potter. Oh yes Black, you're going to be in every kind of trouble if you try to use _crucio_ on me!

"NO!" yells Potter, vaulting over the table and trying to get between him and Black. "Sirius, don't!"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roars Black, trying to push Potter out of the way.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am," he says.

"Harry – get – out – of – it!" snarls Black, pushing Potter aside with his free hand.

Then the kitchen door opens and the entire Weasley family plus Hermione Granger walk in. Arthur Weasley is amongst them, wearing striped pyjamas under a mackintosh, and he announces brightly to the whole kitchen, "Cured! Completely cured!"

Black turns to look at the Weasleys, and he thinks, fucking hell, I had Black right where I wanted him, just my luck ... He turns to look at the Weasleys, too, but his wand stays pointing into Black's face.

"Merlin's beard," says Arthur, the smile sliding off his face, and he doesn't look like a mild mannered Ministry clerk any more, he looks like some kind of a tough bastard. "What's going on here?"

Black has lowered his wand and he thinks, _it's over, time to go_, so he pockets his own wand, turns on his heel and sweeps across the room. He's got nothing to say to the Gryffindors, what's the point, Black will make out that he's some kind of sociopath whatever he says ...

At the door he looks back. "Six o'clock, Monday evening, Potter." And then he's gone. But as he strides down the hall, he's thinking, you'll keep, Black, you'll keep, there'll be another time, and maybe next time there won't be any witnesses at all ... there'll be nothing to stop me from killing you, and what the Headmaster doesn't know about, I can't be punished for – and I can lie to Dumbledore, I can lie to both my masters, I wouldn't be much of a double-agent if I couldn't.


End file.
